


What's a little pegging between friends?

by inkyopolis



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Friends With Benefits, Pegging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 15:14:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11992386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkyopolis/pseuds/inkyopolis
Summary: You squint at the clock on the microwave.‘He should be here any minute.’Goosebumps breakout on your arms.You’re still half-expecting him to bail. Or for him to show-up and pretend everything was a gag. Ha-ha. Joke’s on you. You’ve steeled yourself for that reality. But maybe… maybe he wasn’t joking about taking you up on your offer.





	What's a little pegging between friends?

‘ _A good hostess is always jolly_ ’ you think, shaking the cold metal cylinder between your hands. Ice crashes and collides in the cocktail shaker, like a maraca. Your hips sway involuntarily to the rhythm of the beat. But when the coldness starts to sting your hands, you let out a small sigh, stop your hips, and strain the liquid inside into your martini glass. A careful olive garish and--you take a sip--’ _perfection-i!_ ’

The kitchen isn’t _tooooooo_ huge of a mess you hope. You don’t really feel like cleaning, so you are hoping for the best on this one. But… Dirk is kind of a neat freak. So maybe you’ll just shove some of the worst offenders in the dishwasher.  

As you hide your sins away, you think about that toe-head. Whether, given how much he enjoys his showers, if Dirky-boy doesn’t maybe have one of those germ things? Of course, it’s a little academic. Both the germ thing and also cleaning up the kitchen. It’s not like you’ll be spending that much time in the kitchen, right?

You squint at the clock on the microwave. ‘ _He should be here any minute_.’ Goosebumps breakout on your arms. 

You’re still half-expecting him to bail. Or for him to show-up and pretend everything was a gag. _Ha-ha. Joke’s on you._ You’ve steeled yourself for that reality. But maybe… maybe he wasn’t joking about taking you up on your offer.

\---***---

You were going through your usual “sloshed and alone again on a Friday-night, and oops it's now Saturday-morning” routine. Memes. A little light hacking. And then your boy, Dirk-face-McGee, popped up in chat.

So you led with:

tipsyGnostalgic: “[ http://i.imgur.com/i4UPjtr.jpg ](http://i.imgur.com/i4UPjtr.jpg)”

tipsyGnostalgic: “do you think this compliphnents my personality?”

timaeusTestified: “Hello to you too.”

timaeusTestified: “It’s a little early in the morning for this level of tawdry.”

tipsyGnostalgic: “i like it, but is it too small?”

timaeusTestified: “Well that really depends on the other person.”

tipsyGnostalgic: “but what’s like an arvrige size for a dinger?”

tipsyGnostalgic: “*donger”

tipsyGnostalgic: “okay, i kinda like dinger beter tbh”’

timaeusTestified: “I wouldn’t really know.”

tipsyGnostalgic: “psssh./ don’t beliv you.”

tipsyGnostalgic: “i mean, i’ve seen porn, but i know that’s not normie. anymore than the boobs are. sso i’m just lookin for ballpark here. dinger ballpark.”

timaeusTestified: “Yes, porn dicks are solidly outliers on the ol’ bell-curve of dicks scale.”

tipsyGnostalgic: “okay, so hlp me out here! i want the pouridge that’s just right.”

timaeusTestified: “That is a… disturbing metaphor.”

tipsyGnostalgic: “;)”

tipsyGnostalgic: “what about this one? [ http://i.imgur.com/11UrRbK.jpg ](http://i.imgur.com/11UrRbK.jpg)“

timaeusTestified: “This entire conversation is way too fucking TMI, but at this point, I feel like you are dragging me into this whether or not I’m a willing participant.”

tipsyGnostalgic: “poor dirkie ;)”

timaeusTestified: “...”

tipsyGnostalgic: “but i mean, it could duble as a coat rack.”

timaeusTestified: “That is.. Kind of terrifying?”

tipsyGnostalgic: “oh!! I think i found the perf one!~ [ http://i.imgur.com/vvJV8uc.jpg ](http://i.imgur.com/vvJV8uc.jpg)”

timaeusTestified: “Okay, I will admit that one is definitely ‘you.’ as far as you can be embodied in an object designed to be inserted into someone’s orifice.”  

tipsyGnostalgic: “that’s the swetest thng anyone’s ever said ot me.”

tipsyGnostalgic: “omg and i can ever clean it in the dishwashiner”

You weren’t sure why you thought it was even remotely appropriate, but a few cocktails had removed the ol’ inhibitive barriers.

tipsyGnostalgic: “you wanna help me give it a test rn if i get it? yknow just a little peggin’ between friends? *WONK*”

And then there was a pause. An awful, pause that, even in your blotto state, made you realize, ‘oh, you don’ fucked up.’ Your heart started to beat fast. When you began typing out that you were sorry, a message popped up on your screen.

timaeusTestified: “Yeah, ok.”

You have never purchased something so quickly in your life.

\---***---

When it showed up three days later, you put it on your dresser like it was some kind of altar piece. And, of course, now that you actually had it, you were positive he was going to back out. He must of been kidding right? What a good joke. That Dirk. Always joking.

When you had hopped online that night to tell him it showed up, you were sure the gig would be up.

tipsyGnostalgic: “can’t wait to wrek your butt. ;)”

timaeusTestified: “I’m not going to hold it against you when you get cold feet.”

tipsyGnostalgic: “ha! That’s what you thinlk.”

tipsyGnostalgic: “*think”

timaeusTestified: “I’m just saying, if you want to back out, it’s not a problem. No harm, no foul.”

tipsyGnostalgic: “sounds like someone doesn’t think he can handle my dickn skilzz.”

tipsyGnostalgic: “*skillz.”

tipsyGnostalgic: “*skillrex”

timaeusTestified: “Have you ever done this before?”

tipsyGnostalgic: “well no, but srsly how hard can it be?”

tipsyGnostalgic: “i mean, your basically just mashin hips like your spamming E. Honda’s hundred handslap.”

timaeusTestified: “Okay, once again, I am somewhat horrified by your references.”

tipsyGnostalgic: “scrub.”

timaeusTestified: “I beg your pardon?”

tipsyGnostalgic: “you read what i threw down dirkoe.”

timaeusTestified: “You can’t be serious.”

tipsyGnostalgic:: “I’mma whack your candybutt like a pinyta”

tipsyGnostalgic: “pinayta”

tipsyGnostalgic: “piiiiiiiinyata. “

tipsyGnostalgic: “fuck i have no idea how to spell that.”

timaeusTestified: “See you Friday night.”

\---***---

And now he’s here. Spread out on your bed. You’re seeing parts of him you had never imagined. Yeah, sure, there’s his cock and his cute butt stuck up in the air. But also his knees.

You’d never thought about what the back of Dirk’s knees look like.

But now this is a thing you know. You know that his thighs have these nearly transparent blonde curly leg-hairs. You know that there’s some on his calves, but they’re like, almost non-existent. But there’s absolutely none on the back of his knees, and truth be told, this is kind of weirding you out right now. Like, what evolutionary purpose does hair on the legs serve in the first place, but then, not to have it on the back of the knees? Darwin’s laughing in his fucking grave at you.

“So, any time now,” he says.

You blink. ‘ _Right._ ’ You’ve just been kind of… surveying him like some wild bird you are going to paint for the next Audubon guide to dudes’ asses. And part of you is just in disbelief. He’s on _your_ bed. Your _fucking bed_. On all fours. He’s a landscape you are going to put a highway through.  

But… you keep getting distracted. There’s something weird about his skin. It’s… it’s almost like he’s translucent he’s so pale. Like meat and bones someone’s drapped a wet t-shirt over. Deep indigo veins stick out all over the place, like someone’s connected hidden dots across his body with a blue pen.

You step forward and the weight jutting out from between your legs is weird and foreign. Like someone stuck a diving board off of you. This thing is weird, and you are kind of worried that there’s no way it’s going to fit inside his body. He’s told you over and over he’s ready. It’s okay. But.

This has been some big misunderstanding and your feet are cold and you are wishing you had worn socks and you wonder if Dirk is cold. You should have asked if he wanted a drink and maybe you are sweating a bit though you aren’t sure, and your hand is all weird and slick from putting lube all over this pink thing in front of you and okay you are definitely kind of sweating a bit under your armpits and you are wondering if you put on deodorant this morning and--

“Roxy…” he says. He reaches one hand back and spreads himself open--inviting you.

\---***---

It slid into him so easily--funny, given how worried you were that you were going to hurt him. He’d sucked in breath and arched his back, you really thought for a second you were hurting him. But he let out a nervous laugh and then a kind of content sound. And everything was just fine. Placid. A lake, early on a spring morning.

Then, he started to move. Just small bits at first. Back and forth, slowly. And then you thawed and began to match his timbre. It felt strange. Syncopation. Like the dance you do with the cocktail shaker sometimes.

\---***---

He’s touching himself now. You’ve just gotten comfortable with the fact that you’re holding him by his narrow hip-bones for leverage, smacking your pelvis into his boney-butt. It’s… it’s really quite enjoyable, you think. Weird, but enjoyable. There’s a visual aspect to it you weren’t expecting: watching the sweat collect between his shoulder blades, clinging to his ribs as it slowly trickles down his body. Witnessing him stuff his face into the pillows as he rocks back against you, and you push back into him.

He tenses against the foreign object as you slide into his hole. Part of you wants to run your hands all over him. To take control of what he feels and how he feels it. But there’s a line somewhere within “just a little peggin’ between friends” that you know you can’t cross without making it weird. Things get weird with Dirk so easily.

He grabs your headboard with the hand he’s not using for jacking himself off. ‘ _Christ that’s hot_ ,’ you think. You catch a glimpse of the side of his face; it’s beet-red. He opens his mouth and starts panting, ‘ _panting!’_ and you take this as a sign to keep on truckin’ into that ass. You let go of his hip with your right hand, drawback, and smack his his buttcheek with a resounding ‘ _pop!_ ’

He yelps in surprise, but goes then goes quiet. There’s been no words--no names--passed back and forth. No currency between you.

So you do it again. He doesn’t yelp this time--grunts instead. There’s a red hand pattern now starting to emerge on his rump. Somewhere deep inside, you feel a tiny bit bad. You think about the number of time you’ve seen guys do this in pornos and try to classify this as some kind of petty revenge for that.

“Fuck,” he mutters. He’s shaking.

‘ _Oh,_ ’ you think. ‘ _Oh._ ’

It happens quicker than you thought it would. His body jerks, like those involuntary twitches you get as you drift off to sleep. Except bigger. And then he’s pushing back on you so hard you feel like you’re going to get knocked off.

So you push into him as hard as you can.

Except.

Except your feet have left the ground now and you’re falling. Falling down into him, into his sweat soaked body, into the sweat soaked sheets. A mass falling together.

The thing beneath of you moans, and it’s not quite in pain. He’s… you feel something warm against your leg.

‘ _Oh fuck he came on my sheets.’_ you think.

His breathing is slowing. There’s one last spasm beneath of you.

“Dirk, are you… ok?” you ask, tentative.

He swallows. “Yeah… I’m… I’m good.” He pauses, then adds, “You can uh… pull out.”

‘ _That is a sentence that someone has uttered to me,_ ’ you think as you slowly back the prosthetic out of him. It comes out with a wet pop, and you roll onto your back, sucking in air.

He looks over at you. It’s so strange to see him without his shades. Edgy and cool are gone. He’s doe-eyed and fuck he’s so cute.

“Are you… uh.” He clears his throat. “How did that work for you?”

You look down at the lube-slicked pink-dildo sticking straight up like a day-glo clocktower. “No, I’m… I’m good,” you sputter. “You know, it didn’t, uh, like.” You aren’t sure how to say it. “It felt good, but there was no, you know, like, clit stimulation or anything on my end, so uh.” You didn’t come from it is what you want to say.

“Oh.” He says flatly. His eyes are searching you, then darting around the room. He stumbles, “Do you, uh, want me to, uh.”

‘ _Yes._ ’ “Oh no, I can uh.” You say, reaching down and unstrapping the buckle along your waist, loosening the contraption just enough so you can slide a hand under it.

“Do you… “ he pauses, swallows, “want... or, like... need me to…”

‘ _Just touch me. Touch me like you want me_.’ You push the thought away, closing your eyes. “No no…. Just.. you know… let me know if I’m bothering you.”

He gives an affirmative, “Mmmhmm” as you cup your hand around your vulva, arching your middle finger inwards.

“Roxy?” he asks.

“Mmm?”

“That was… that felt nice.”

You let out a sigh as your toes begin to curl.


End file.
